The Spark of my Flame

Shane

I hate being a newsboy. Cold morning breeze chilled the air and concrete, making for a chilly sunrise. The wind blew leaves off trees, bursts of red, yellow, and orange falling to the ground. All was quiet in the small neighborhood, most asleep in their warm comfortable beds. Not me however. I grumbled as I toss newspapers onto people's porches, the sound of my skateboard wheels gliding along the concrete filling my ears. It was cold for fall, annoyed that I was shivering inside my jacket. I don't bother to even read the papers anymore. Its all the same stuff. More news on the mutants, freaks, monsters, etc that plague our country. Ironic my own parents are some of its "monsters". I'm not however. I'm not anything special. Maybe that's a good thing. Being a seventeen year old delivering papers in the cold is good enough for me, though it sucks sometimes. I'd much rather complain about the cold then being sent out to hunt down and slaughter the governments little mistakes. I let out a soft sigh as I let my skateboard skid to a halt, opening up the newspaper bundle so I can actually read it. 

Monster Population seeing significant decrease: Spies rooting out the evil amongst us.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the headline, neatly rolling up the paper before tossing it onto a doorstep. I pushed my skateboard toward with ease, resuming my work. The monster plague was created in the governments vile attempt at super soldiers, injecting toxic sludge into blood streams to enhance human work ethic. Originally it was just a failed project, scrapped due to it making soldiers sick. No one is quite sure who or when this project was started up again but with normal everyday citizens as test subjects. It ended up as a massacre. It killed thousands in total, either from their bodies being unable to handle the newfound power or were killed by others trying to contain their power. It was a mess but of course this was decades ago.  These abilities, amazingly, ended up pressing into DNA and causing it to be inherited. I have no idea the physics but I come from a bloodline of powers but unfortunately for me I lucked out on ability. My father is an Icee, able to freeze water on command. His skin is always cold to the touch due to this, making him unable to touch anyone outside of our family. My mother on the other hand is a Lithe, able to manipulate light to her advantage and born with extreme agility. My older brother, Josh, is a burner, which allows him to create and manipulate fire. His skin is always warm and when he gets angry waves of heat burst from him, making him very unpleasant to argue with. The only thing I can do is ride a damn skateboard. The government loves to create monsters out of ordinary people they gave extraordinary gifts, murdering them out of fear of them becoming stronger than them. The government sent out spies a year ago to dig out people with abilities since its nearly impossible to tell who has a gift and who doesn't. My family has to hide their gifts so they won't be killed, making me live my life on edge. I always fear one day they will slip up and reveal their ability and I will be helpless to save them. I sigh as I shake that thought off, continuing my route. On the bright side I'm almost done and I can't wait. Mom is probably making breakfast right now, hopefully I'll be home before everyone wakes up. I hum happily to myself as i glide along the streets, tossing the newspapers onto porches. I flinch when a scream splits the air, nearly falling off my board as I halt. A small boy falls in the street just a while away from me, vines wreathing around him. I watch numbly as officers hack at the vines with sharp knives, defeating the poor child's attempt at defense. His mother cries for them to stop but its no use as the bot narrowly escapes their hold. I want to look away, run, scream even but there is nothing I can do. An officer draws their gun, the mother's wail making me sick as blood splattered onto the street. The child falls, nearly headless from the blow. I blink, a shaky exhale leaving me. The kid was barely more than seven, probably off to school. I hate this. I hate living like this. It's to early for this shit. I finally manage to cast my eyes away from the morbid scene, hearing the mother continue to cry as she's dragged away for testing. I push off on my board again, more than happy to just go home. By the time i'm home my appetite is gone, picking up my ride and dumping it in the garage. I head inside, my troubles easy just at the smell of waffles, "Hey mom,"

"Good morning Shane, how are you?"

"I'm fine," I reply with a smile, watching her effortlessly dim the bright light flowing into the kitchen.

"Aren't you gonna eat sweetie?" Mom asks, tipping her head in her catlike way.

I shake my head, mumbling about having already ate. I couldn't stop thinking about the boy, heading upstairs to my room. Josh shoves me against the wall as he passes, chuckling some smart remark i don't care enough to listen to. I sigh as I sink into bed, curling up under the covers. I pull my phone out of my pocket, smiling softly as I see a good morning text from Morgan. Heat rises in my cheeks as I see a heart emoji after her words, sending a good morning text back. I set my phone my phone aside as i wait for her reply, eased by her words. I smile weakly to myself, the mere thought of her making me happy. Soon i hear the delightful buzz, snatching the device back up into my hand. i says she's coming over for breakfast, making me smile. I've only known her for about a year now and yet just the thought of her gives me butterflies. The memory of the young boy's murder slowly fades as I slip into slumber, content to dream of Morgn as I wait for her to arrive